Reviews
‘R.L. Stine’s Pumpkinhead’ Review – Tubi Original Is Prime Gateway Horror for Halloween
There’s something off about Red Haven.
In R.L. Stine’s Pumpkinhead, the new Tubi original written and directed by Jem Garrard (Slay), it’s pretty evident that there’s more to the bountiful harvest and cheerful farmer’s market than meets the eye. Of course, this is par for the course for a Stine text, which typically wastes no time throwing its middle grade protagonists into the creepy/supernatural deep end.
That’s how Pumpkinhead works: 13 year old Sam (Bean Reid) moves to Red Haven the day before Halloween with his 17 year old brother Finn (Seth Isaac Johnson) and single mother Cassie (Kendra Anderson). Sullen and withdrawn, Sam feels excluded from decisions made by his family, who have moved to the small town for a fresh start in the wake of a tragedy.
Within hours, however, Sam has been creeped out by the town’s cheerfully demeanour and its benevolent benefactor Farmer Palmer (Kevin McNulty), who grows a prized pumpkin in his barn each year. It’s part of a tradition that the townspeople claim saved the crops and, by extension, the town, “at the turn of the century” (ie: 2003).
The history lesson is imparted to Sam by Becka (Adeline Lo), the daughter of the Sheriff (Bob Frazer) and Sam’s immediate confidant. When Finn goes missing while trying to fix a prank Sam pulled and all of the town’s adults, including Cassie, forget he ever existed, it falls on Sam and Becka to figure out the mystery and rescue Finn before it’s too late.
It should be noted that unlike Garrard’s last film, which pitted drag queens against vampires, R.L. Stine’s Pumpkinhead is very much gateway horror for the tween crowd. The plot is fast paced and straightforward and the comedy, principally povided by town recluse Rusty (Matty Finochio), is extremely broad. Themes involve untrustworthy adults and kids being forced to look after themselves, both benchmarks of genre middle grade fiction, while the penchant for creepy monsters and violent threats are classic Stine.
In this case, the principal antagonist is a Scarecrow (Troy James) who protects Palmer’s property and a key text that holds the power to unravel the whole scheme. The creature design is a little underwhelming for the body as it’s basically a burlap outfit, but the mouth opens unnaturally wide to emit black smoke tendrils that suck the life out of victims if the monster lays hands on you. Then there’s the acrobatic way the Scarecrow moves, which involves loping, back bending and racing around on all fours. It’s a good physical performance despite clearly being “a man in a suit.”
As for the human actors, Reid and Lo are fully capable leads. The former negotiates the shift from petulant sulker to reluctant hero when Sam is forced to step up and save his brother. Lo is the MVP, though; in addition to managing the early exposition dump, Becka is both the brains of the group and its protector (she carries a slingshot and her targeting accuracy is spot-on).
The third member of the group is stunted adult Rusty, who fills in the backstory of the town while also acting as the film’s main source of comedy. Audience mileage may vary with this character, however; Rusty has a tendency to deliver self-aware exposition, such as when he admonishes Sam for interrupting his tale because rushing it ruins “the world-building.” These kinds of on the nose references are relatively infrequent. Becka’s acknowledgement that splitting up “isn’t very Final Girls of us” is a bit more egregious, but Finochio’s performance is much showier. What he’s doing is much bigger than everyone else in the film, so he’s likely to be a fan favourite or a grating distraction (my money’s on the former for the target audience).
Overall, R.L. Stine’s Pumpkinhead is a solid gateway film for pre-teens. Audiences hoping for the same campy execution and social commentary as Garrard’s last film will undoubtedly find this a little cheap and simple, but it’s clearly aimed at a younger audience for whom a daytime chase by a Scarecrow through an empty field is equal parts scary and exciting.
With that said, everyone is apt to be affected by the truly horrifying spectacle of the screaming titular character, which looks amazing. Add to this two delightful animated sequences and a finale that employs a spell, a ticking clock, and a surprisingly dark coda, and it all feels appropriately R.L. Stine.
For those who love The Haunted Hour and Goosebumps, this is perfect seasonal fare.
R.L. Stine’s Pumpkinhead is now streaming on Tubi.
Movies
‘Recluse’ Review – Harrowing Haunted House Horror With Lots Of Skeletons In Its Closet [Tribeca 2026]
A haunted house story is tense, terrifying storytelling when it’s properly executed. There’s been a growing tendency in horror to blend together harrowing haunted house stories with traumatic homecomings. A family member’s illness or death triggers a return to something dark that was intentionally left behind. Recluse hits all the tropes that one expects to find in this type of horror film, yet it manages to push this story in a daring, disturbing new direction that uses sound as a superpower.
It’s a unique lens to experience a familiar story about family secrets, generational trauma, unresolved grief, and the importance of not just legacy, but preservation. It’s a hell of a directorial debut from Henry Chaisson that’s guaranteed to get under the audience’s skin as they’re dragged through this painful, toxic tale.
Recluse is a gothic haunted house story where an isolated audio engineer, Joan (Sasha Frolova), returns to her family’s estate to check in on her father after he suffers a terrible accident. Joan suddenly discovers something much more sinister that paints her family’s tragedies in a very different light. Chaisson’s debut functions as a fascinating companion piece to this year’s undertone, which does a lot of the same things.
These two films make for a fascinating case of parallel thinking that tackles comparable subject matter through a similar lens, albeit in a bigger, less claustrophobic story in Recluse’s case. In fact, it’s the perfect horror film for anyone who was let down by undertone and didn’t feel like it brought enough to the table. It’s a considerably more conventional horror film, but this isn’t meant to denigrate its high quality. Recluse may hit some familiar notes, but it’s a scary, well-crafted haunted house horror story that goes for the jugular.
A gripping mystery that involves the tragic, unresolved circumstances that surround Joan’s mother teases a chilling connection to the recent horrors that have afflicted her father. Joan desperately tries to put these pieces together and give her family some sense of grander peace before she’s pulled under and becomes another victim of this festering curse that’s systematically worked its way through the Wyatt family. By doing so, Recluse digs into some deeper commentary on collective trauma, a very literal look at the “sins of the father” adage, and how one selfish decision can ripple through generations and fracture off into different dilemmas. By the end, Recluse has brilliantly flipped the powerful concept of legacy on its head by illustrating the horrors and sense of entitlement that can be born out of this idea.
A legacy is just another name for a curse under the right context.
”Listen” is a simple but powerful command from Joan’s father that she briefly obsesses over. In a way, it becomes Recluse’s grander mission statement, whether it’s in response to Joan listening to the people in her life, the signals that her body and mind are telling her, or the world’s greater whims. It’s important to reconnect with these grounding pillars, especially when it feels like control is slipping away.
Recluse excels with how audio and soundscapes can create entire universes that are full of rich details that transport individuals to these environments. There’s also a level of objectivity when it comes to audio recordings and the evergreen permanence that they’re able to provide. Joan’s career as an audio engineer makes sense for someone who wants to cling to hard evidence and proof of existence. It provides great insight into Joan without ever getting lost in contrived exposition.
Joan’s entire life is built around audio engineering, and so it makes sense that Recluse features excellent sound design that really goes above and beyond with its production elements. All of the sound design is expertly handled and turns the film into something special. These auditory elements intuitively keep the audience on edge so that they’re more susceptible to the actual scares that eventually strike. The smallest sound effect gets turned into a crushing, cacophonous assault. It’s a really effective way to build terror. Writer/Director Chaisson also handles the film’s music, which achieves a sublime, unnerving dissonance that further heightens the free-floating anxiety.
The story at the center of Recluse is slightly generic in some respects, but the film’s visual language and tone make it feel distinctly memorable. It also doesn’t hurt that the home that Joan returns to is basically an eerie art studio that’s full of contorted paintings. Recluse never struggles to generate mounting dread and terror that pump through every scene. Powerful, thoughtful cinematography consistently reinforces the film’s themes. Joan is constantly reflected in different surfaces or viewed through mirrors. She’s also often confined to tight, constricting framing that all speaks to her refracted identity during this moment of loss and her attempts to regain agency and control by making sense of something that’s seemingly unexplainable.
Recluse is full of truly disturbing visuals that make it seem like Joan is lost in a dream that turns out to be an extended nightmare. It’s a surreal journey reminiscent of invasive psychological horror like Silent Hill, with a touch of Sinister and Hereditary thrown in for good measure. There are so many individual frames that could endlessly fuel urban legends and creepypastas.
It does a great job with how it presents Joan’s fragile state of mind, where chilling flashes of the past sneak up on her and unresolved trauma manifests into unsettling imagery. There are endless shots that are obscured in darkness, or shadow is creeping in from the corners of frames like a suffocating force of nature. It’s very rare that a scene is fully lit. It leads to a very lonely, isolating atmosphere that’s easy to get lost in.
Chaisson’s debut stands out from the many other high-minded haunted house horror films without succumbing to the same pretensions that often drag down these stories. It’s a grief-stricken character study that’s full of upsetting visuals that scratch at something visceral and raw. The horror elements connect, and the answers to its grander mystery provide an appropriate and believable sense of closure. Those who are looking for an atmospheric horror film that isn’t afraid to be different while still channeling something real will appreciate Recluse.
Recluse made its world premiere at Tribeca; release info TBD.
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